


and think of lucis

by introductory



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Dirty Talk, Fingerfucking, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Prostate Milking, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2019-03-05 04:02:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13379748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/introductory/pseuds/introductory
Summary: "Once more for me, dear Noct," Ardyn says, his voice a low murmur, oozing with false affection.  "Just one.  It's all I ask, and I've been sogenerouswith you today, haven't I?"





	and think of lucis

**Author's Note:**

> For [this prompt](https://ffxv-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/4398.html?thread=7489326) on the kinkmeme. 
> 
> Takes place vaguely after Altissia but probably doesn't fit into any part of the canon timeline. No happy ending here, so please be forewarned.
> 
> (I started this ages ago, i.e. before I realized I only wanted good things for Noct ~~thus letting all the bad things fall to Ignis~~. I'M SORRY, NOCT.)

It could be worse.

They could be in the throne room of Niflheim, surrounded by the Imperial Court and hundreds of Magitek soldiers, arms at the ready. Ardyn could have tied him up, chained him, gagged him; could have raped his mouth before raping his ass, dick pounding into Noctis and tearing him apart instead of slicking up his fingers and, one by one, easing them gently inside.

It could even be one of the others. Sweet, brave Prompto; loyal, steadfast Ignis; fierce, defiant Gladio -- if Ardyn had accepted, they could be the one spread open in his bed instead of Noctis, enduring this seemingly endless torture in his place.

Gods know they'd tried.

It could be worse, so Noctis closes his eyes and tries not to think about the way Ardyn's blunt, heavy fingers are moving inside of him. Any resistance is long gone by now; Ardyn's taken great care not to hurt him, and it's as if his fingers were always meant to be here, pressing against that spot inside of him in a way that makes Noctis's vision blur and his stomach curl with nausea. He can hardly register the wet squelch of lube in his ass anymore, or the disgusting pool of it growing steadily underneath him. He's filthy, inside and out, and a part of him knows he'll never again be truly clean. 

"Now, now, my dear," says Ardyn. There's no warning before he slaps Noctis lightly with his other hand, pausing in his southerly efforts, and Noctis gasps, eyes flying wide open. "I can't have you disappearing on me. Come now, pay attention."

Words bubble up in his throat, _fuck you_ and _I'll kill you_ and _I'll make you regret this_ , but they're too tangled up in misery and what comes out of Noctis's mouth is a hoarse cry. He can only hope the others are sequestered far enough away they can't hear the sounds emanating from this room; the thought of them bearing witness to this leaves his heart heavy, and even heavier the knowledge that any of them would gladly have taken his place, even knowing what he knows now.

 _I'm sorry_ , Noctis thinks shamefully, selfishly, even as his cock swells against his stomach. _You shouldn't have had to -- nobody should ever have to._

"There, see?" Ardyn gives his cock one slow, dry stroke before letting it fall, smacking painfully hard against his belly. "You're enjoying this after all, aren't you, my pet?"

"I'm not your _pet_ ," spits Noctis, finding his voice. "And no one could possibly enjoy this."

"On the contrary," Ardyn says, "I find the act quite pleasurable indeed. Yes, it's considerably more effort than a simple wank, but I know from experience it's possible to spend several _hours_ just enjoying the feeling of internal stimulation."

The last part is said with a wicked raise of Ardyn's eyebrows, and Noctis shudders at the thought of spending hours in this man's grasp, being torn apart from the inside with gentleness. Somehow he doesn't doubt Ardyn has the time; he's the Imperial Chancellor, after all, and he's already spent half an hour away from his duties -- what's another few more?

"You're _despicable_ ," Noctis says, and Ardyn grins at that, spreading his fingers so they stretch Noctis's rim, until he's hissing and writhing in pain. His point made, Ardyn backs off, finding that same spot inside him with uncanny accuracy, stroking against and around it with practiced ease.

Noctis knows objectively his cock is hard, but there's no _feeling_ to it. The hips stuttering upwards with every skillful maneuver of Ardyn's fingers aren't his. The mouth that pants and moans and gasps for air isn't his. The eyes leaking tears from between tightly-pressed lids aren't his. The fingers clutching at the luxurious fabric of Ardyn's bedsheets aren't his. This body, this aching lump of flesh and blood and bone, can't possibly be his.

(Never mind that it never truly _has_ been. Born to the Crown, sold to the Astrals, bartered to Ardyn like a used  car -- Noctis's mistake is thinking he was ever in control of his own destiny.)

He comes suddenly, untouched, white streaking his chest and shoulder and Ardyn's gaudy, overfilled pillows. "You bastard s-son of a _bitch_ ," he says, each syllable filled with venom, and Ardyn laughs.

"Neither, I'm afraid," he says. His fingers keep up their agonizing pace, pressing heavy and sure inside of him, giving him not even a moment to recover. Noctis wrenches the sheets in his hands and stares at the ceiling and what seems like hours later comes again with a thin, wretched cry. This time Ardyn allows him the small mercy of pausing, just long enough for Noctis to catch his breath, before starting up that same rhythm with his fingers, deeper inside of Noctis than anyone has ever touched him before. 

Somehow Noctis manages to get his voice working again, to form words instead of strangled groans. "It hurts," he says, horrified at how weak he sounds. "Stop."

"Stop? But you've come twice now, my dear. That doesn't seem very _hurt_ to me."

"I won't take this anymore." _I_ _can't_ \-- "Chancellor. That's enough."

Ardyn pauses, frowning. "Won't you call me by name? Now _I'm_ hurt." 

"You forfeited that right the moment you touched me," Noctis chokes out, and Ardyn grins -- like he's _enjoying_ Noctis's spite and anger, like he thinks they're having a witty repartee between friends. He adjusts his position and brings Noctis fully into his lap, heedless of the slick lube that coats Noctis's thighs, and keeps on.

By the third time Noctis is in agony, body twisting on the sheets as he tries to get away; Ardyn's grip on his waist is like iron and his insides _ache_ , raw and oversensitive even as his cock stutters out a few weak droplets of come. He finds himself wishing Ardyn's fingers were knives instead, that he was being tortured to death rather than orgasm. Ardyn shows no signs of stopping, and every time Noctis tries to get out of his head he's brought back to the present, each time a little more viciously than before.

"Once more for me, dear Noct," Ardyn says, his voice a low murmur, oozing with false affection. "Just one. It's all I ask, and I've been so _generous_ with you today, haven't I?"

"Stop this. Pl -- " Noctis chokes back a sob. He will not beg. "No more. Stop."

"Well, of course I'll have to eventually," says Ardyn, genial. "How I'd _love_ to keep this up all  day -- but I have duties to attend to, an empire to run. Heavy lies the head, etcetera."

"So attend to them _now_." It comes out as a snarl, and again there's that unctuous grin, showing all of Ardyn's teeth.

"In time, my dear, when I grow tired of watching you squirm. But that time is not yet."

Noctis wonders just how much time _has_ passed. Are his friends safe? Have they been fed and tended to? It seems like whole days have gone by since Ardyn shook his hand, like a salesman sealing the deal, and led him away; Noctis won't put it past the Niffs to have somehow figured out how to stop the passage of time. If only he could see the sky, but Ardyn's room has no windows: a prison cell, a dungeon.

"It's a shame we haven't more time," Ardyn continues. "How I would have _loved_ to see you impaled upon my  fist -- but I suppose we'll have to save that for our next liaison."

Noctis feels his body react, scrabbling backwards on the silken sheets as far out of Ardyn's reach as he can manage. He can't reach the Armiger, not with the Niff blockers in place, but he's so desperate to put even a few inches between himself and this repulsive man and his repulsive thoughts -- almost as desperate as he is for this to finally end. "No," he croaks out, chest heaving.

"No?" Ardyn pretends to think it over for a moment. "Perhaps one of your friends might be more amenable to the idea. They _were_ so eager to volunteer before, remember?"

Noctis's vision goes very white. "Don't you fucking dare," he says, shuddering and furious, truly afraid for the first time since he followed Ardyn up the stairs. "You gave me your word you wouldn't touch them."

"And _you_ said you would try to enjoy yourself." The corners of Ardyn's mouth curl like smoke. "Can one blame me for reneging in such circumstances?"

How the fuck is Noctis supposed to -- to _enjoy_ himself? How could he have ever been so _stupid_ as to trust someone as dangerous and evil as Ardyn, even if just for a moment? He'd known what Ardyn wanted in exchange for their safety, and it was easy enough to  give --

( -- easy enough to pretend he had a choice in the matter, to ignore the rifles pointed at his face and Prompto's forehead and Ignis's back and Gladio's broad, heaving chest as he shielded Noctis from the MTs, loyal as a dog -- )

\-- his body, nothing more, nothing less; too much for any decent man to ask, any person with the slightest modicum of _honor_. Noctis can hardly breathe for the anger that scorches him from the inside, hotter than elemancy, and Ardyn is still talking, voice smooth and pleasant, like he's reading the morning newspaper.

"That young marksman of yours," he's saying. "He ought to be a delight to break, don't you think? One can only _imagine_ the vocal symphony he'd make with my hand inside him to the wrist. Or perhaps your dear  advisor -- a shame about his sight, but I'd wager I could make even him see _stars_."

"I'm going to kill you," Noctis says, every syllable like acid. Ardyn has already signed his own death warrant, but to threaten _them_ \-- "If you touch any of them, by all the Lucii, I swear. I'll make you _suffer_."

"Hmm," says Ardyn, smirk turning into something softer, almost as if he likes the idea. "I suppose you're right. I _am_ so loath to give you up now that I have you." He taps his chin with the index finger of his clean hand, looking thoughtful. "Perhaps I'll just invite them in to watch. It's quite obvious, their desire for you; if your shield could have taken my place, why, he'd have jumped at it in a heartbeat."

"Leave my friends out of this."

Ardyn looks down at him through half-lidded eyes. There's naked desire in them: raw and genuine, almost _human_ , a thousand times more terrifying than the coldest stare. "Do you think your _friends_ aren't picturing everything happening inside these four walls? Do you think they aren't seeing you in their mind's eye the way I see you  now -- the supposed Chosen King of Light, the savior of all Eos, spreading his legs like a common whore?"

"Stop talking," commands Noctis. He sounds like a child -- felt like one, helpless and terrified, feigning confidence he doesn't have, utterly out of his depths. "Stop now, and maybe I'll kill you myself. You can't imagine what they'd do to you instead."

"Nothing I haven't experienced before, I'm sure," Ardyn says, breezy. "But truly, Noct -- are you so blind to how your friends, your _devoted_ companions, would love nothing more than to touch you like I have? An unbecoming feature in a future king, this willful ignorance. Do you not know what they would give for the chance to know you so deeply, so intimately: to feel the heat of you around their fingers and hear you gasping out your pleasure, to know the sounds you make when you're touched _just so?_ "

"Stop," says Noctis, and this, this is the thing that finally breaks him, that causes his heart to constrict like it's collapsing in on itself, that finally looses the tears from his eyes. They would never -- they would _never_ \--

"Shh," says Ardyn, voice soft. He leans down to stroke Noctis's hair with his clean hand, then gently thumbs the tears from his cheeks. "You needn't worry. Hush now, love. It's just the two of us."

Noctis turns his cheek into Ardyn's palm and cries freely, brokenly; Ardyn makes soothing noises and strokes his face like Noctis imagines a lover would, and he hates the part of him that takes comfort in it, that craves the soft warmth of Ardyn's palm as if the kindness is genuine. 

When Ardyn says, "Come back to me, Noct," he opens his eyes. Ardyn waits at the foot of the bed, beckoning and hungry, and it takes every ounce of willpower for Noctis to go to him, to bring his knees apart. "That's it, my prince," Ardyn says, stroking the insides of his thighs. "Good boy."

The fingers, again; the fullness, the desperation. The tremors, the uncontrollable shakes and shudders, the sense of heat and electricity that spreads from behind his navel along the length of his limbs and through every nerve in his body. He can hear a voice climbing in pitch and volume, the broken vowels ringing in his ears. He can see darkness around the edges of his vision, crowding out the shape of the man above him, raping him with such tender compassion, ruining every inch of him, inside and out. He can feel his spine arching, his body twisting --

He comes. Ardyn continues to press inside him, not slowing, not stopping, and for a moment Noctis is terrified he's going to break his promise, that he really will plug Noctis up with his fist, but then he's suddenly empty and aching and clenching around nothing, and he's never felt more hollow in his life.

"Simply splendid," says Ardyn. "I was right to put my faith in you, Noct. Why, I daresay you have a fifth waiting in the wings -- but I promised you a respite, and have it you shall."

Noctis lies there, mind blank, as Ardyn draws back upright. A beatific expression on his face, he lifts his hand to his mouth, and the small part of Noctis's mind still capable of emotion recoils with horror as Ardyn licks his fingers -- palm to tip, as if he's just enjoyed a five-star meal. It shouldn't be more disgusting than everything he's just done to Noctis, but somehow it still is.

"I'll have the others sent for," Ardyn says. "I'm sure they've been _dying_ to see you." 

Noctis nods. He doesn't trust himself to speak, doesn't trust Ardyn at all. Ardyn tugs his glove back on -- _disgusting_ \-- and stands, coat fluttering behind him. At the door he pauses, hand on the knob. 

"A few words of advice, Noctis, if I may," he says. "Do clean up a little before you leave. Seeing you in such a state -- your friends might have a difficult time keeping their hands to themselves. I know _I_ certainly am."

 _Get out_. Noctis's mouth doesn't move, but Ardyn does, twisting the doorknob, his smile wide and indulgent. "Until we meet again, dear Noct," he says, and then he's gone. 

The door locks behind him with a click. There's silence. Noctis breathes, or tries to, but he can't bring himself to sit up or search for his clothes or do anything at all besides stare up at the dark canopy of Ardyn's bed. Soon he can hear his friends calling to him through the door, can pick out Prompto's anxious breaths and Ignis's worried tones and Gladio's silence, enormous in its palpable anguish. Eventually Noctis rolls onto his side and brings his knees up to his chest; a slick gush of lube spills out of him at the change in position, trickling down from between his legs, and the voices of his friends grow louder, more frantic, begging him to respond. He doesn't trust himself to answer them; he doesn't trust himself to move. He thinks he might never answer them, trapped forever in this moment like a butterfly in a bell jar, never to move again.


End file.
